


We Will Find a Way Through the Dark

by nataliefwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake Baby, Getting Back Together, Harry Needs a Hug, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliefwrites/pseuds/nataliefwrites
Summary: When Louis told Harry that "my love for you has faded", Harry had nodded, smiled, and agreed to break up mutually (how could he not, when doing anything else would have hurt his love so badly? because yes, he still loves him, so, so much that he feels like he can't breath sometimes)And Harry thought he could live with this, being in love with Louis and seeing him from afar, but he hears that Louis is going to have a baby not even two months after breaking up with him, he -
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	We Will Find a Way Through the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> so apparently im on a streak posting up stuff that I have written up before - this was written yearssss ago when I was still deeply in the fandom and wouldn't stop consuming larry fics and crying over my babies 
> 
> this was the first ever fic i wrote for larry so, enjoy!

He was slumped against the wall, with dozens of whiskey bottles at his right, and his phone, screen cracked from when he threw it at the wall earlier, lied forgotten at his left. 

Harry raised yet another bottle of whiskey to his lips, a thought in the back of his head - if only, the gushing river at his lips would wash away his heartache, just as it washes away his consciousness. 

He reaches the bottom of yet another bottle, and the bittersweet feeling reminded him of him. He chuckled bitterly - what a time, but he finally understand why his love - if you could even call him that - loved to drink so much.

The apartment was silent - nothing but the sound of his own breathing, and he could almost hear the phantom sounds of past laughter and giggles, happy memories that they'd had together in this apartment, just two young boys, drowning in love, unaware of the outside world, as if being in this apartment isolated them from the rest of the world, creating their own happy bubble.

He popped open another bottle at the thought of those days. 

And he wonders, if they hadn't auditioned for the show, would they still have met? Would they be sitting together in this very room right now, carefree, married, and with kids? 

A lone tear slips out of his eyes, at the future that they could have had, and he lets it slide down his face, the tear slipping past his lips, and the taste of the salty tear makes his absence more prominent. 

He wished that he was here, but he was out, with his girlfriend, Eleanor, and Harry just doesn't know what to do anymore. 

Friends, he remembered, they were to stay friends. 

At least there's no more need to hide their relationship from the public, he thinks, but he'd rather take the hiding over this sea of nothingness, and blankness. 

He still remembered his sweet, and oh so blue eyes, looking at him over the dinner he cooked, gently telling him, that maybe them, their relationship, just isn't what it was, wouldn't be what it would have been, and that his love for him has faded. 

Harry still loves him though. 

But he remembered how he had laughed it off, hiding his shattered heart behind his words, and told him that he thinks the same, and that his love for him has just faded to platonic and brotherly love, and he gave him one last peck on the lips, and told him that they would totally remain friends, with no hard feelings. 

He was lying. 

And he misses the days, when the whole Eleanor thing was just a stunt, when she was just an actor, hired to hide their relationship. 

And they would sit together at dinner, laughing at some of the things Louis was forced to say and do in interviews. 

But all that was before she spent more time with him than Harry, and somehow, in those hours that they spent together in public, Louis had fallen in love with her, and "my love for you has faded". 

And of course, Harry had told him that he didn't love him anymore either, that it was going to be a mutual breakup, but he could feel his world crumbling around him, with every breath he takes, with every moment that passes, and he's not with him, and he's reminded of the fact - that they're not together anymore. 

The tears fell from his eyes like a waterfall, and he could feel the tears all running into the mouth, mixing together with the taste of alcohol, but he just couldn't, couldn't bring himself to wipe the tears off his cheek. 

A notification lights up his phone screen, and he picked it up, only to be reminded of what he had seen half an hour ago. 

Louis and Eleanor were having a baby. 

Tears flowed again, at the thought of the future they could have had, of the child that could have been theirs, of the life that could have been. 

He looks at the article again, a picture of them at the top, with Louis smiling at her, like she was his entire world, and the headlines "ONE DIRECTION LOUIS TOMLINSON TO BE A FATHER", and the text explaining how Eleanor was seen leaving a pregnancy clinic, grinning and holding her barely visible bump, and how Louis was seen waiting for her, opening her door and smiling brightly - a to-be father. 

Harry ignores the constant messages popping up at the top of the screen, knowing that they'd probably be either his mother sending him sweet, sweet, supportive messages, or the group chat of congratulations to Louis. 

He needed to be alone right now. 

He stumbled to his feet, the bottles of whiskey he brought into his room all drunk, and he went in search of something stronger - to drown away this painful, aching world. 

The sound of glass breaking registered in the back of his mind - but he was too gone now for it to signify anything, and he half walked, half dragged himself to the kitchen, looking for another bottle to make him live - feel alive. 

He dug out the bottle of vodka at the back of his cabinets, knocking over countless cups, all tumbling and crashing down on the floor, the sounds just barely registering to his inebriated mind, and he stumbled back to his (their) room with the bottle already raised to his mouth, his shirt wet from the spilled vodka. 

He tripped and fell flat on the floor, pain erupting all over his body, and his last thought before succumbing to the darkness, was that he hoped that this was nothing but a horrible, horrible dream, and he'd wake up to warm arms surrounding him, and lips that whispered "I love you" 

**Author's Note:**

> angst angst angst oh gosh i didnt even read the whole thing before posting it up (its been years i really don't quite remember)
> 
> if you've also read my other stuff - you could probably tell how different yet similar my writing style have changed over the year (probably?) 
> 
> anyways! leave me a comment or anything (constructive criticism is welcomed but no flames please, thank you!)


End file.
